


Afterwards

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, post heat fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 03:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12786432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Rhys always feels gross and exhausted after his heats. He barely expects any alpha to give him the time of day as he goes out to buy some "feeling bad" ice cream, and he's definitely not expecting to be hit on by one that is exactly his type.





	Afterwards

**Author's Note:**

> I got a request for Jack flirting with Rhys at a random place and I kind of made it into a fic where Rhys is shopping after a heat and feels gross, but Jack hits on him anyway :D Modern ABO AU where Hyperion is just a normal company :0

The day immediately following Rhys’ heats was always the worst.

Sure, the inevitable pre-heat panic that set in no matter how many times Rhys has done this was always a bit of a hassle, but preoccupying himself with meal-planning and supply shopping managed to distract him from his anxiety until he was comfortably holed up in his room with plenty of blankets and toys and emergency snacks on hand. The actual heat itself was usually pleasant enough—Vaughn took care of most of the day-to-day chores and checked in on him periodically, and his suppressors prevented the dizzying and potentially dangerous fevers he used to experience.

But even his top-of-the-line medications couldn’t do anything to soften the inevitable post-heat drop.

Rhys had groaned audibly when he’d woken up this morning to find that the mindless need clenched in his belly had finally abated, leaving him with feeling weak and tired and  _starving_. His room had been a mess, far from the usual immaculate state he liked to keep it in. Half of the blankets that had been periodically piled on top of his bed and twisted around his body during his heat had spilled onto the floor, and several of his pillows were still damp with either drying sweat or slick or saliva. He’d kicked a dildo out of bed as he’d swung his legs over the side, trying to re-balance his center of gravity as he’d looked for some clothes to throw on.

Jeans were too tight around the butt and crotch, so he opted for a pair of navy sweatpants that had been tossed onto the floor. He shivered, still cold from the sudden change in body temperature, so he grabbed the old Hyperion sweatshirt he’d gotten from the intern program and zipped it up around his trembling frame. He cuddled into the soft, well-worn neck of the sweatshirt, fairly content to burrow back into his bed and nap the rest of the day away when his stomach snarled at him.

He rubbed his face with a sigh, before hobbling out towards the kitchen.

However, Rhys was mortified to find his ice cream shelf in the freezer  _completely_  empty. His jaw fell open, but he aggressively sniffed back the annoyed tears threatening to build up in his eyes. Oh no,  _no_ , he wasn’t going to be one of those omegas who cried after their heats, no matter how much he might want to due to the lack of ice cream.

He peered around the house, hoping he could find Vaughn and whine enough to get his best friend to go out and get ice cream himself, but a message on his ECHO quickly told him Vaughn had long left for work, apparently confident that Rhys’ heat had resolved. Rhys pouted, groaning lowly to himself as he looked towards the door. He really,  _really_  didn’t want to go out in this state.

 _But….but_   _ice cream_ , the hungry little id in his brain needled at him. Rhys frowned down at his stomach as it growled again.

“Traitor…” The omega whined as he shuffled off in search of his shoes.

* * *

As Rhys waddled through the ice cream aisle with a series of plastic  _slaps_ , he made a mental note to himself to buy some god- _damn_  flats next time he went on a shopping spree. The bright yellow flip-flops glared accusingly back up at him, a constant reminder of how sloppy and thrown together he really looked.

His hair was a mess, presumably. He hadn’t even bothered to take a look in the mirror before he had left, knowing that it was a limp, tangled mess that couldn’t be salvaged without a shower. He rubbed the heel of his palm against his eye, cringing at the feeling of gunk clinging to his lid. He was a total mess, an eyesore compared to the young professionals and soccer moms flitting through the grocery store grabbing lunch or buying groceries. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to focus on which type of ice cream he wanted and not the bizarre looks he was probably receiving for his disheveled appearance.

His fuzzy brain spent five minutes trying to decide between Mocha Almond Fudge and Strawberry Swirl Cheesecake blast before he finally dumped both into his basket, hobbling towards the check out counter. The line was long, much to his dismay, so he tried to drift off into daydreaming about eating his ice cream, when a sudden nudge to his side jolted him out of his reverie.

“Hey.”

Rhys blinked dumbly, turning around to look at the man behind him.

His nose, even stuffed up as it was, could instantly tell that he was an alpha. And a pretty handsome one at that—all broad in the chest and shoulders, with bronzed skin and a charming smile and eager, twinkling eyes. He was definitely Rhys’ type, if he were at a bar or browsing dating profiles, but he was at a supermarket and post-heat and honestly embarrassed about his current appearance. He averted his eyes, subconsciosly tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

“Hey,  _uh_ , sorry, did you need something?” Rhys gestured vaguely to the rows of impulse candy and other items flanking the cashier lanes.

“Oh, I suppose you could say that, cutie,” the strange alpha grinned, showing off a pair of long, attractive canines. A confused, awkward smile flitted on Rhys’ lips.

 _Cutie_? He had on old, unwashed sweatpants, greasy hair,  _flip-flops_ …was this guy blind?

“What ya got there, huh?” The alpha peered into Rhys basket. “Ooh,  _ice cream_. Looking for something sweet, kiddo? Good, ‘cause I’m pretty sweet on  _you_.”

Rhys stared back, flummoxed. The line moved ahead without him for a moment before he managed to stumble forward, not sure how to respond. Pre-heat, he wasn’t surprised when alphas tried to flirt with him, their judgement impaired by pheromones driving them to shack up with an omega for a week’s time. But post-heat—post-heat, unless there was a bond or intimacy present driving an alpha to care for him, there should be no reason for one to try to get with him. Especially when he looked like hell shoved into a bag and kicked off a cliff.

“You… _really_ …” Rhys couldn’t stop the disbelieving tone from invading his voice as he replied to the strange alpha, “is this like…a dare from your buddies or something?”

“Buddies? You think I’m putting you on, sugar?” The alpha placed a hand to his chest in mock-offense. “ _Please_. I’m a  _gentleman_.”

Rhys chuckled softly, a little blush crawling over his cheeks as he unloaded the tubs of ice cream onto the conveyor belt.

“You know…if I knew I was going to meet a handsome alpha at the store, I would have dressed better…” He sighed as he tugged his sweatshirt around him, suddenly self conscious. But the alpha raised his eyebrows, looking at Rhys like he was crazy.

“Crap, if this if you  _not_  trying, then I’m pretty sure if I ever see you all dolled up my knot would fall off,” he smirked as he dumped a bottle of expensive wine, a box of condoms, and three huge bags of pretzels onto the counter. A happy smile flickered on Rhys’ lips as he paid the cashier, stuffing the pints into his backpack.

“Really…I mean, I clean up pretty well, if I don’t say so myself,” Rhys quipped, rubbing his arm as the alpha paid for his own items, shrugging them into a reusable bag.

“Oh yeah? Well, that’s something I’d like to see. If you’d be up for it, sweetheart.” A business card flicked slickly into the alpha’s hand, quickly passing to Rhys’ eager fingers.

“Go home, eat some ice cream, take a shower….then call me if you need me. Could use some help finishing this wine, yanno.” He winked, firing a finger gun at Rhys before disappearing through the supermarket entrance. Rhys remained, stunned, as he stared at the name engraved onto the business card.

_Jack Lawrence, Hyperion CEO._


End file.
